"I understand that you are currently developing improvements to paper production, and we would like to help," said the man.
"How do you know that?" was Douglas' wary reply, thereby hopelessly giving himself away.
"Is this your signature?" the man asked, producing the order form for Eldrich Chemical Supply.
"No...No, I have no idea what you are talking about. You must have the wrong house, I'm sorry."
Douglas was about to close the door when the man astutely pointed to the empty parcel from Eldrich Douglas had carelessly left in plain view of the foyer. "So your name is not Douglas and yet you have a package from Eldrich Chemicals with Douglas' name on it. Misrepresentation is unlawful, but I'm not here to blow the whistle. I'm here on behalf of a corporation that wants to help with your research. This is hardly the place to do serious research. No offense, but it's unsuitable. May I come in? We have an offer that might be of interest to us both."
Douglas felt flush and dizzy. He let the man in. They both sat in the living room, the man trying not to occupy too much space on his chair lest the squalor of the home dirty his well groomed and evidently expensive right-off-the-mannequin suit.
"We can talk about the specifics of your research in lurid detail later. What I want to offer you right now on behalf of my corporation is a chance to further develop your research in a more suitable environment... We are talking being housed in a fully-equipped research laboratory with a high ceiling for expenses. Great research these days is done by teamwork, and with a good finance supply. The days of Edison and Marconi are gone, times have changed, and real research with substantial results needs firm support and good reach in order to get off the ground."
"What corporation do you work for?"
"You may have heard of it: Metapharm."
Douglas hadn't.
"How did you discover my research interest?"
At this point, the Metapharm representative waved the Eldrich order form with a cocking of his eyebrows. "The only people who order these specific products are those involved in the making of paper."
"Why me?"
"You have potential, and - correct me if my information is incorrect - you're on to something groundbreaking that will revolutionize the face of paper manufacturing. We at Metapharm want to act as your support, your patron in a way."
"I think I can manage fairly well on my own."
At this, the Metapharm representative knew he had to change tack. "Listen, Douglas - may I call you that? - the only reason Eldrich has been looking the other way - and let me tell you that they've known all along about your misrepresentation - is that they don't want to kneecap your obvious research potential. It's a kind of scientific etiquette, but they are under no obligation whatsoever to continue supplying you with what you - and your research - need. If Metapharm hadn't stepped in and taken an interest, Eldrich would have pulled the plug. Sure, sure, you could try the same dog and pony trick with some other supplier, but word gets out...These suppliers may be fierce competitors, but they do talk, they share information, they send each other regular alerts about clients that may in fact be terrorists. People are clamping down these days, and you know it. It's not so easy to get some materials, especially if they can be remotely construed as bomb-making materials. The whole operation of chemical supply has responded with an enormous ramping up of security."
"What is your offer?"
Douglas' seemingly quick yielding resurrected the slick ad-man smile upon the representative's face. "Well, what I just said: a suitable environment to conduct your research. The only catch - and it is a pretty small one compared to what we'll be giving you - is that we need a small favour."
"Here we go."
"Hey, hey, now, Douglas...We believe in innovation as much if not more than anybody else, but we're not a charity. We're not an academic granting body that funds pure research for its own merit. We're a corporation with a very clearly laid out agenda. Remember that this is an opportunity with a rapidly approaching closing date, and that we could just as easily make this same offer to someone who is legitimately in the paper industry. What we need here is your expertise to treat paper. It'll be a snap for someone with your talents. We need a new kind of paper where a certain chemical is part of the weave of the paper. But here's the hitch our lab has struggled with: we haven't been able to make the chemical and the paper compatible without compromising the quality of the paper itself. We need someone with the expert skill to make a superior quality paper that has been treated with our chemical."
"What kind of chemical is it?"
"A longevity agent, nothing more," the representative lied. "We need a paper that will hold together for our newly designed ink that will increase the longevity of all printed material."
"I've never heard of Metapharm. What does your corporation sell?"
"We're idea-people, Douglas. We prefer not to limit ourselves to something so basic as products themselves. We specialize in so many things and we're branching out beyond pharmaceuticals. You might say that our boss is a really eclectic kinda guy," he said with a calculated chuckle. "He's really interested in a lot of things, and the durability of books just happens to fall within his interest end zone."
Douglas was put off by the sports analogy.
"Here," the representative said, offering Douglas an envelope embossed with the Metapharm logo. "What you'll find inside is what we're willing to offer you plus what we're asking of you. Don't worry too much about the contract - it's just the same formal mumbo-jumbo our legal department likes to use."
Douglas opened the envelope and scanned the cover letter with its glittering generalities and vague claims of how friendly, progressive, and future-oriented Metapharm was.
"Let me guide you through this real quick. What it boils down to is that you get your own lab space with all the state of the art gizmos and gewgaws you need. Anything we don't have, we can requisition. You'll have a team of six really sharp lab techs under your supervision to do all the boring data-crunching and stuff. Your expense limit you'll find rather generous."
Which Douglas did. A six figure expense budget.
"You'll also be paid a stipend plus a modest annuity upon completion of your research for us. The annuity kicks in once we've ramrodded your invention through the patent office. Of course, there's just a little red tape here and there. You'll note our insistence on the non-disclosure clause of the contract which I've taken the liberty of highlighting on page eight. There are a lot of nasty people in this game, and they're the type of fierce cutthroat competitors who are really gunning to sink Metapharm, and would stoop as low as to steal our ideas to turn a profit of their own. We don't want any of that, so we have to keep hush-hush about all our research in progress. No double agents in our outfit, so when you sign, you are signing loyalty to us alone."
"It says here that I'll be assigning intellectual copyright to Metapharm."
"More legal mumbo-jumbo...Really what that means is that you are assigning to Metapharm the rights to protect your idea. Look at it this way: if a rival competitor got hold of your idea, do you think an individual is going to have a snowball's chance in hell of having the cash and resources to hire a crack team of lawyers to go to bat for you? Leave all that to Metapharm: we have a veritable army of lawyers on retainer ready to protect your ideas. We're not claiming ideas that aren't our own - we're safeguarding them. Think of us as your big brother, protecting you from the bullies of the industry."
Perhaps against his better judgement, Douglas consented to the offer. Dizzy with the money promised, disoriented by specious corporate jargon of "innovation uplift" and "proxy talent-sourcing", Douglas' suspicions were overwhelmed by a machinery so complex and organized that he began to believe that it had to be a legitimate enterprise.
Nathan was inducted through different, although no less devious, means. The talent research arm of Metapharm was given the task of populating a call list of potential experts on ink, and Nathan's name occurred with such fr
equency in their talent search that he was placed at the very top of the list. At this time, Nathan was putting the final touches on a primer for studying the ink used in rubrication spanning the years of 1200 to 1400. Making the most of his third sabbatical, he had already toured throughout Europe attending conferences where he was feted to the point of unsurprising regularity. It just so happened, however, that Nathan found himself a little cash-strapped after making an unadvised property purchase. Not that he was in any financial danger, but the need to recoup a few losses was an occasional distraction from his research.
Meanwhile, the list of possible candidates to perfect a chemically-treated ink was submitted to the Chair of the Division for Special Projects Committee. Nathan's name was qualified with the endorsement of being of highest recommendation. The Chair, occupied by Dr Fuse Less as the Acting Chair during the absence of the regular Chair, had a habit of stroking a small cyst tucked behind his ear whenever he came across something particularly good.
"Members of the Committee, I think we have our pigeon. However, this is a well decorated pigeon, and so I would advise that we pursue this from an academic angle. The term 'private sector' is sometimes enough to scare off those with several accolades and staid credentials."
"What's his metier?" asked a committee member who had obviously not bothered to read the circulated list of candidates prior to the meeting.
"An internationally renowned expert on ink in every respect: historical, technical, cultural..."
"Shouldn't we go with someone in the actual industry rather than court academics?"
"This fellow is an exception," Dr Less replied. "He could teach the industry a thing or two."
"Is he snatch-able?"
"Given the right incentives, every man has his price. I can bet that if he'll come quietly, he won't come cheaply. He's on sabbatical right now for the next seven months, so we'll have to move quickly. We only need him for five or six months anyhow, and then he can return to his duties a bit richer in pocket."
"Method of approach?"
"Flattery, but not something that rings insincere and overly obsequious. Go for the academic acknowledgement, but don't make it read like his biography. Insist on the the importance of the research project without giving too many details - just an aperitif to soothe him - and yet let's not sound desperate: say that he would be a vital component, but in no way make or break for our research."
"When we draft this, how soon should we show our hand?"
"Our financial offer? Not too soon. Waving money under his nose right away will be seen as crass and will look suspicious. Add it on near the end so as to make it appear that the money is really a formality, a secondary matter. That should appease him in believing that our intentions are scholastically noble. When we cook it all up, be sly and insert a few paraphrases from his publications... mask them just right so it isn't plagiarism, but compelling enough to drag him by the academic ego. If we make our research project appear to him like a logical continuation of his own research, he'll be more inclined to comply. At the same time, make it look open-ended, but not too broad as to make our project look unfocused. Corporate feel-good terms should be scrapped in favour of academic ones. Speak his language back at him."
Upon his return, Nathan plucked a crisp envelope from his stack of unread mail. Unhurriedly, he placed it at his kitchen table and made some tea before taking to opening it. Probably another invitation to submit an article, attend a conference, or act as a thesis defense committee member, he thought. The return address read Metapharm Inc., and so he briefly entertained the notion that it was junk mail. Upon opening it, he came to realize that none of his assumptions were true. The letter of invitation, written in a register of high academic prose, was requesting his expertise to supervise and conduct a research experiment with a new kind of ink. The right sequence of trigger words and references to his own work were patiently and appropriately paced throughout. Nathan mulled the offer and then went to his computer to do a search for Metapharm.
Metapharm's website came to life with its multimedia-intensive moving graphics. Peppered throughout were the carefully designed slogans any good theorist of propaganda could pick out as being planted for rhetorical persuasive effect, including the deliberate use of fonts and colours. Nathan was not attuned to the analysis of persuasive techniques, and was finding himself compelled at some deep and hard to access level of his consciousness. His more academic evaluation and skepticism snapped back into place with questions such as what is Metapharm and what is their agenda? It was not entirely clear what the corporation did, and it took some patience to locate some of its products beyond the palaver of building a better future and other ennobling generalities that swarmed every page. From what Nathan could gather, the corporation specialized in pharmaceuticals tailored to the improvement of linguistic abilities. Nathan found this aim to be a touch more valuable than the motley of other companies hawking pills for sustained erections or anaesthetizing the natural emotive after-effects of bereavement.
Nathan knew that the corporation was expecting a prompt response given the slightly urgent tone of the letter, and the statements pertaining to how the research was well underway. The invitation letter promised Nathan a tidy sum for his appointment as a "consultant" as well as a fully stocked laboratory, attendant technicians, and other perks including lavish daily lunches and the use of the company chauffeur should Nathan need to be ferried anywhere. As a visiting researcher with a vital task, he was being given several executive privileges for his time and effort. Nathan replied with a provisional acceptance, followed by a series of feeble clarification questions to ease his conscience that he had just been bought.
Now both men were in the folds of Metapharm's plan. After the fatuous preliminaries where the two researchers were treated to welcoming speeches at board meetings and a small yet expensive bow tie soiree, and after the initial period of getting accustomed to the new and highly modern facilities, it was time for the two men to get on with the work. The generous expense budget and the ease of making requisitions that were filled promptly made experimentation easy at first. However, in time, even unlimited expense could not expedite the slow crawling pace of research nor overcome the persistent problems the hired researchers encountered. There seemed no plausible way of making the chemical additives Metapharm wanted to infuse in paper and ink compatible with a finished product that met all the benchmarks of quality sought.
By the end of the first month, Nathan and Douglas reported to the Head of Clinical Testing who made sympathetic noises in response to their difficulties. These same noises lost their sympathy in the second month when inconclusive results were again offered. And these noises resolved themselves into words almost impatiently threatening and reprimanding by the end of the third straight month of no tangible results. Contract was mentioned, as was expectation and diligence. Timely and conclusive were other words in the Head's repertoire that were gradually replaced by accusations of "dragging your heels" and "dithering with superfluous details." When Nathan suggested that perhaps the chemical additives be reworked to facilitate a more feasible transfer to the ink, this was met with anger: "we paid you to make these chemicals fit! We will not budge one iota from the formula. Your job is to make the ink fit the additive, not the other way around!" Something very similar was said a week later when Douglas happened to recommend an alteration to the chemicals.
Once the contracted period was near its end, Douglas had the makings of a breakthrough. Of course, more tests were needed to determine if the results were indeed satisfactory, but Douglas would not find himself under the protection of Metapharm for much longer; others would be paid to fine tune the results of Douglas' hard work. Douglas would quickly find out about Metapharm's treachery and coldness when, on the final day of his service, they officiously reminded him of the contract's stipulation that the result of his work was now Metapharm's sole property, that he was not allowed to keep any of his research notes, and was then speedily escorte
d off the grounds by a burly pair of security guards named Trevor and Robert.
Nathan, on the other hand, did not come as far as Douglas in his own research. Nathan's meticulously plodding approach and his characteristic attention to detail failed to produce anything near Metapharm's expectations. He denounced Metapharm a bit too openly by stating they expected miracle results at the expense of taking the time to do good research. Metapharm's response was simple: refuse to pay out the remainder of the contract including the severance bonus. When Nathan threatened legal action, he was surprisingly encouraged to go ahead and do just that, and that they would be counter-suing for breach of contract with the aid of their entire legal department. Nathan, unsurprisingly, backed down.
The happy twist for Metapharm at the end of the six months of research was a breakthrough in the ink-additive compatibility perfected by one of the lab technicians who extended Nathan's research to something more workable. Now they had both the proper paper and ink necessary to begin the process of persuading publishers and printers to use their products. An attractive drop in price, a few well-decked info-display booths at industry shows, an aggressive target marketing campaign, and the usual magic of buzz was enough to justify the first major production run of the newly Metapharm-infused paper and ink. Not many cared to investigate or venture a guess as to why the pharmaceutical giant was getting into the paper and ink business, and printers especially could care less since the product was superior at a fair price. Beyond a small mention deep into the editorial and publication front matter of a book, or tucked away in the dead zone of the colophon, it raised no suspicions whatsoever.
Coincidentally, the sales of books spiked for a period of time. There were, however, reports of a steady increase in a loss of linguistic skills as well as a surge in some very bizarre books written by authors who seemed to have a habit of going mad, committing suicide, and the usual curiousities that populate the literary news world that barely makes even the smallest impress upon us.
The Infinite Library Page 62
